Filed to story: The Luna is Secret Heiress Book PDF Free by Sylvia
Standing up, I excused myself to the restroom, needing a moment to think. Olivia’s gift was unexpected but not unwelcome. It meant she was still invested in our relationship, still trying to please me despite everything.
As I walked away, I didn’t notice Cassandra’s eyes following me, calculating and cold.
(Cassandra’s POV)
The moment Ethan disappeared around the corner, I reached for his phone. The password was pathetically simple-his birthday. He’d never bothered to change it in all the years I’d known him.
I quickly navigated to his messages, starting with Olivia’s chat window. The last exchange was from a week ago, where she had suggested a vacation during the upcoming holiday, sharing scenic itineraries and activities they could enjoy together.
Ethan had replied five hours later with a dismissive: “It’s too crowded during holidays, nothing fun about it.”
Since then, Olivia had sent no more messages. I couldn’t help but smirk at the lopsided affection. After three years, Ethan couldn’t even be bothered to travel with her.
Flicking through other chats, I spotted Jason’s recent message praising Olivia’s costly gift. My lips curled in disdain.
So she’s still trying to curry favor and mend things by buying gifts. I thought she was ready to give up, but no, she’s still groveling.
I locked the phone again and placed it exactly as Ethan had left it. Then I pulled out my own phone and dialed Margaret Grey, Ethan’s mother.
“Madame Grey,” I greeted warmly when she answered. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all, dear,” she replied. “How are you and Ethan getting along?”
“Wonderfully,” I said, injecting just the right amount of concern into my voice. “But I wanted to let you know… I just went with Ethan to look at rings and saw that girl trying on engagement rings, clearly pushing him to marry her…”
(Olivia’s POV)
Back at Moonlight Manor, I continued packing my suitcase methodically. Martha had brought me fresh linens, her eyes curious but respectful enough not to ask questions.
I carefully placed the watch-my gift not for Ethan, but for Connor Rivers-in its box, wrapping it securely in a soft cloth before tucking it into my luggage. The thought of Connor brought a small smile to my face.
Connor Rivers. My childhood friend and current fiancé-to-be in the planned alliance between the Winters Pack and Rivers Pack.
Memories of Connor’s cold yet elegant face came unbidden as I folded my clothes. We had known each other since childhood, living mere miles apart in the same territory of Riverdale.
When I was ten, still a little girl with pigtails and scraped knees, my parents brought me to the
Rivers residence. The mansion had seemed enormous then, with its sprawling gardens and imposing stone facade.
There, I first glimpsed Connor, already a breathtakingly handsome fourteen-year-old with frosty ice-blue eyes like winter snow. He stood tall and proud beside his father, the Alpha of the Rivers pack.
“Go on,” my mother had whispered, giving me a gentle nudge forward. “Say hello.”
Obediently, I had called out, “Alpha Connor.”
He had only responded with a cool, “Hello,” his expression unchanged. I remember thinking he must be difficult and unapproachable-a misconception that lasted for years.
I sighed, folding another sweater and placing it in my suitcase. How different things might have been if I’d understood him better back then.
After my mother’s death from wolfsbane poisoning when I was fifteen, I transformed from a carefree child into a quiet, rebellious teen. The loss had hollowed me out, leaving me angry at the world and everyone in it.
During my high school years, I struggled with history-dates and events blurring together as I tried to focus through my grief. Connor’s mother suggested he tutor me, boasting of his near-perfect knowledge of the subject.
When twenty-one-year-old Connor arrived at our home to help, I had defiantly told him, “I don’t need you to teach me.”
He had only smiled, tapping my forehead gently with his pen. “But I insist.”
Contrary to my fears, he was endlessly patient, explaining every concept thoroughly, even offering multiple interpretation methods when I struggled. He never rushed me, never showed frustration when I failed to grasp something immediately.
Gradually, my resistance faded to admiration. One day, after I’d finally mastered a particularly difficult concept, I marveled, “Wow, Connor, you still remember all this after so many years?”
He admitted with a soft laugh, “Not everything. I reviewed the histories beforehand.”
That small confession-that he had prepared specifically to help me-had touched me deeply. Thanks to his devoted coaching over that summer, my knowledge soared, enabling me to attend Riverdale University-his alma mater.
To me, Connor had always been a respected figure, never a romantic prospect. So when my father proposed I marry Connor to strengthen the alliance between our packs, I instinctively rejected it.
How could I marry someone I’ve always looked up to?
Instead, I had fled to Harbor City, determined to make my own way, to find love on my own terms. And I thought I had found it with Ethan Grey.
How wrong I had been.
Lost in these memories, I was startled when my bedroom door opened. Ethan stood leaning by the frame, gazing down at me with unreadable eyes.
“Are you almost done packing?” he asked quietly.
I answered softly, “Mm, almost.”
He remained lounging against the door, then said, “Liv, don’t you have something you want to say to me?”
(Olivia’s POV)
I looked up from my packing, meeting Ethan’s blue eyes with confusion. His tall frame filled the doorway as he leaned against it, watching me with an expectant expression I couldn’t quite decipher.
“What?” I asked, genuinely puzzled by his question. cker of impatience crossed his face before he softened his tone. His lips curved into that amiliar half-smile that once made my heart race.
“I was harsh at Lunar Jewelers just now. Don’t be mad anymore.”
The statement hung in the air between us. He clearly expected me to melt at this barely-there apology, to rush into his arms with gratitude for his magnanimous forgiveness. Three months ago, I might have done exactly that.
“I’m not angry,” I replied quietly, turning back to fold another sweater.
Ethan scoffed, pushing himself off the doorframe and taking a step into my room. “Come on,
Liv. Don’t be like that. Mouth says no, heart says yes.”
I continued organizing my suitcase, not bothering to look up. “Think whatever you like.”
A flash of annoyance crossed his face. The patience in his voice was wearing thin now, the facade of contrition rapidly fading.
“I already apologized. What more do you want?” he demanded, his tone hardening.
I smoothed the wrinkles from a blouse before placing it carefully in my suitcase. “I don’t need your apology.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened as his gaze fixed on me. He seemed to realize his approach wasn’t working, so he abruptly changed tactics.
“Where’s the gift?” he asked stiffly.
I glanced up, genuinely confused again. “What gift?”
His eyes narrowed. “Jason said he saw you buy me a watch. Didn’t you buy that to make up with me? I’m back now. Shouldn’t you bring it out already?”
The sheer presumption in his voice almost made me laugh out loud. Before I could clarify, he continued, his tone growing increasingly arrogant.
“Enough is enough, stop making a fuss.”
